


Rainbow Cake

by kathkin



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-12
Updated: 2011-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-17 22:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathkin/pseuds/kathkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Arthur comes out the closet, eats a lot of rainbow-coloured food, and really wants to kiss Merlin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rainbow Cake

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted as _Arthur's Big Gay Story_ at [eloquent-toast](http://users.livejournal.com/eloquent-toast)'s first time fest. Written for the prompt 'Arthur's first time at gay soc at university'. Beta'd by [maybelater__](http://users.livejournal.com/maybelater__/)

It turns out gay bars are pretty much the same as regular bars. Arthur is almost disappointed. He’d been expecting more rainbows and glitter and possibly shirtless men. But no, there was just a bunch of people sitting at tables and drinking while irritating music played in the background.

Except, y’know. Gayer. That guy at the bar in the leather jacket? _Gay_. The girls over in the corner? _Gay_. The man coming out of the toilet and the girl with tattoos all up her arms, and hell, probably the bartender? All gay. Because this is a gay bar. Arthur swallows and starts to back out, because this was clearly a terrible idea, and hell, it can wait another year, but then he collides with someone coming through the doors and stumbles further inside instead, muttering apologies.

The thing is, Arthur spent the first nineteen or so years of his life deep, _deep_ in a closet, sailing down the river Nile, and now suddenly he’s outed himself just by walking in the door. The gay door. Of the gay bar. And now he is going to meet other gay people and go on a gay pub crawl, which he assumes will be like a regular pub crawl only with more gay.

They are in the corner with a big rainbow sign, just as promised on the society website. Arthur sighs, adjusts his t-shirt (and he totally hadn’t spent forever deciding what to wear, that would be ridiculously stereotypical of him) and walks over.

The only person who isn’t in the midst of a deep, loud conversation is a weird skinny kid with the funny ears who Arthur thinks he might have actually seen around campus once or twice. He has a lined pad out and is writing frantically, which is a weird thing to be doing in the middle of a bar, but then again, this is a gay bar, so maybe Arthur should throw his preconceptions out the window for a change.

The weird skinny kid looks up as Arthur approaches and smiles. “Hi!” he says brightly. “Are you here for LGBT soc? Take a seat!” He pulls out the chair next to him in invitation, and Arthur sits down, because it would be rude not to. “’Scuse me a second,” says the skinny kid. He keeps writing for another half a minute or so then stops abruptly, caps his pen, and turns to grin at Arthur. “Sorry, society business,” he says. “I’m Merlin. I’m the treasurer.” He holds out a hand. Arthur shakes it, tentative.

“I’m Arthur,” he says. “I’m new here.”

“I know,” said Merlin. “I mean, it’s my job to keep track of people who come to the meetings and all.” He holds up his pad. “See?”

Merlin’s shirt has a rainbow on it. And a unicorn. Arthur isn’t sure if he is being ironic or not. “Nice shirt,” he says.

Merlin laughs. “You think?” he says, tugging at it. “My mum bought it for me as a coming out present when I was fifteen. Will, my flatmate, he said I should wear it tonight so people would know who we were and all. I feel a bit silly, to be honest.”

“No, you look good,” says Arthur. “I mean – pink… suits you?” He pauses and winces. “Because of your complexion, I mean, not because you’re, y’know, gay and all.”

Merlin looks bemused, and then laughs again. “You don’t need to be so nervous,” he says. “We don’t bite.” He frowns. “Well, maybe Cenred, best stay away from him, yeah?”

“I’m not nervous,” says Arthur automatically. “I’m just a bit new to this sort of thing.”

“That’s okay, it’s fresher’s week,” Merlin says. “Everyone’s new.” He smiles encouragingly.

“I’m not a fresher,” says Arthur. “I’m in third year. I just didn’t get around to this until now.”

“Oh, I know what you mean,” says Merlin. “I’ve been meaning to go to this theatre group for like a year and a half, but I just never manage to get it together, y’know?” He starts sucking on the end of his pen. Arthur tries not to watch.

“Yeah,” he says after a moment. “That’s what I mean. And stuff.”

Merlin’s looking a little quizzical when a dark-haired Irishman descends on them like a whirlwind, wrapping his arms around Merlin and dragging him out of his chair.

“Merlin! Where’ve you been, mate, haven’t seen you all summer!”

“I was in _Bosnia_!” says Merlin, laughing. “How did you miss that?”

“Agh,” says the Irishman, and hugs Merlin again. Arthur wonders if they are a couple, but when they separate the Irishman looks him up and down and says, “Who’s this, then?”

“Oh, this is Arthur,” says Merlin. “He’s new today! Arthur, Gwaine.”

Arthur opens his mouth to say _it’s nice to meet you_ or something like that, but Gwaine claps him on the shoulder and says, “Great, fresh meat! Can I get you a drink?”

“No, I’m fine,” says Arthur.

“I’m buying you a drink,” says Gwaine, turning towards the bar.

“No, really,” says Arthur, “I can get my own drinks –” But Gwaine is already gone. Arthur turns back to Merlin – who is sipping on his own drink, something in a tall glass with a little umbrella – and says, “He seems friendly?”

“He’s very direct,” says Merlin.

“So… why were you in Bosnia? Holiday?”

Merlin shakes his head. “Volunteer work,” he says. The blonde girl sitting next to him nudges him and says something Arthur doesn’t catch, giggling, and Merlin giggles too. Arthur would wonder if they are talking about him, but he’s not quite that paranoid.

“This is Elena,” says Merlin. “Elena, meet Arthur.”

“Hi!” says Elena brightly. She seems to be quite drunk already, which is something, ’cause the pub crawl hasn’t technically started yet. She reaches over the table to shake his hand, and he notices for the first time that she is wearing a corset. Right. “Have we met before?”

“Don’t think so,” says Arthur. She might be about to protest, but then Gwaine arrives with two pints and what looks like shots, and Arthur’s not complaining, because he really needs a drink. He thanks Gwaine and tries to be subtle about downing about half the glass at once.

Merlin introduces him to about fifty more people around the table, and he manages to catch just one name – the girl next to him, Freya – and then Gwaine is talking to him again before he knows it. He’s pulled up another chair and jammed himself in between Arthur and Merlin, and Arthur is a little concerned by that, because he met Merlin first and he’d rather stick with him for now, because he seems safe.

“Haven’t I seen you around?” he says.

“Oh, probably,” says Arthur. “I’m around quite a bit.”

Gwaine squints at him, then slaps the table, sending the shot glasses jostling, and says, “Fencing! You’re on the fencing team, right?”

“Yes,” says Arthur. “Yes, I am.” Merlin snickers. “What?” says Arthur.

“Nothing,” says Merlin. “Just. Fencing. Always seems a little dirty.”

“It’s not dirty!” says Arthur. Fencing is a pure and noble sport, and he opens his mouth to say so, but doesn’t, because that would be kind of strange.

“I come to watch the matches sometimes,” says Gwaine. “You’re mates with Leon, yeah? We dated for a bit.”

Arthur’s a little shocked at that – he’d always assumed Leon was straight, and he says so before he can stop himself. Gwaine laughs. “Yeah, he did too,” he says. “I helped him figure some stuff out.”

Then the conversation somehow swings back to Merlin’s trip to Bosnia and how _amazing_ it was, and then onto some club they’re going to, and then back to Bosnia, then to hair products, and Arthur is a little confounded. He’s beginning to regret coming at all, because Gwaine’s knee keeps nudging at his leg and it’s all _very uncomfortable_. He should have stayed home and kept pretending to be straight, it was working alright so far.

Freya rubs at his shoulder. “Are you okay?” she says. “You’re very tense.”

“I’m fine,” says Arthur. “Just a bit tired.”

“I know this great massage,” she says. He flinches away.

“No, really,” he says. “I’m fine.” Except for being in a _gay bar_ , surrounded by _gay people_.

(When he was fourteen his father had given him a very lengthy lecture about ‘homosexuals’ and how deviant behaviour was perfectly acceptable provided it was all behind closed doors and provided his son didn’t do it, ever, so Arthur had tended to avoid this sort of situation, as a rule.)

“Oh, I know!” Elena exclaims suddenly. “Didn’t you used to date Vivian?”

Arthur blinks and realises she must be talking to him. “Um… no?” he says. “No. Dating girls, that is not a thing that I do.”

“No, no, it was definitely you,” says Elena. “You were dating for like a year. You came to my birthday party and made out all over the sofa.”

“I’m sure you’re thinking of someone else,” says Arthur.

“Really not,” says Elena, with a pointed stare. Arthur squirms.

“You know no one here minds if you’ve dated girls, right?” says Gwaine. “I date girls sometimes.” Then he catches sight of another friend at the other end of the bar, and is off as quickly as he had arrived, with nothing but a _bye, all_.

“I dated a girl once,” says Merlin. “It wasn’t so bad. She had breasts and stuff.” Elena raises an eyebrow. “I never really saw the appeal. No offence.”

“I always thought you were straight, though,” said Elena. “Like, really, _really_ straight.” Arthur sinks lower in his seat. Oh god, he’s a total fraud, they’ve seen through him already… “I guess my gaydar must be broken or something. Unless you’re bi? Are you bi?”

“Leave off, Elena,” says Merlin. He turns to Arthur. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Arthur snaps.

Merlin sighs and moves up a spot, into the chair Gwaine had vacated. “So just out of curiosity,” he says as Freya and Elena go back to talking about hair products. “Just how recently out _are_ you?”

“What makes you think I’m recently out?” says Arthur. Merlin has leaned in quite close, as if he intends for this to be a private conversation, and his breath is tickling Arthur’s shoulder.

“Well, mostly everything, to be honest,” says Merlin. “If you want to talk, just ask any of the committee, yeah? Except Gwaine, he’s not so good at that sort of thing.”

Arthur sighs, and gives up. “I’m kind of… not,” he says. “Out, I mean. Or I wasn’t till tonight.” He pauses and takes a breath. “Okay. I’m gay. There, _now_ I’m out.”

“That’s great,” says Merlin. “Good for you! And you seriously haven’t talked to _anyone_ about this yet?”

“Not so much,” says Arthur.

“Oh,” says Merlin. He looks almost disappointed.

“What?” says Arthur.

“It’s just,” says Merlin. “Well, I meant what I said, about if you want to talk. Or there’s this great hotline you can call, I have the number somewhere –” He starts to grope in his pockets.

“I’m good,” says Arthur. “And it’s not like – I’ve known for a while, I’m not confused or anything. I was still in school when I figured this out.”

“So you dated a girl for a year even though you were gay?” says Merlin. “Oh, never mind.” He reaches over the table and nudges Elena. “Hey, guess what! Arthur just came out tonight.”

“Oh, really?” says Elena. “Wow! We have to make him a cake.”

“Cake?” says Arthur.

“Coming out cake!” says Freya. “It’s traditional.”

“…It is?” says Arthur.

“Welcome to the wonderful world of gay!” says Elena.

“Merlin makes _fantastic_ rainbow-cake,” says Freya.

“It’s just regular cake with food colouring in it,” says Merlin, grinning. He pats Arthur’s shoulder. “She’s right. This calls for cake. You should come over some time and we’ll have cake!” His hand is still on Arthur’s shoulder, for quite a bit longer than is strictly necessary.

Of course, after that the conversation turns to coming-out anecdotes, and how-I-figured-out-I-was-gay, and Arthur tells them about how he got his first proper crush on a boy in sixth form, and Merlin tells him about the straight boy he pined after for six months, and Elena tells them all about how she went to an all-girls boarding school and had her first kiss in the stables and ended up all covered in hay, and then Arthur even tells them about his father and gets all sorts of sympathetic coos, and by the time they start the crawl he’s actually feeling more or less okay.

It helps that he’s tipsy by the time they reach the second bar, of course – which has more rainbow flags and glitter – and all-out drunk by the time they finish the night in a club full of butch lesbians and gay men and even one guy in drag.

Arthur dances, even though he’s a terrible dancer, and then he dances with Gwaine, then with Elena, because why not, and because she’s actually a pretty good dancer and decides to instruct him, and then with Merlin, who is also quite drunk and who drapes his arms around Arthur’s neck and hugs him and hollers “I’m glad you came out to me, I feel honoured!” in the general direction of his ear.

Sometime around one in the morning, they head outside, where it’s not so hot and loud, because Merlin needs air and Arthur needs Merlin, which is stupid because they’ve only just met and all he’s done is hugged him once or twice, gay guys probably do that all the time, it’s not like it’s a _thing_.

Merlin sobers up a bit in the cooler air. “So how are you liking being out?” he says after a while.

“It’s not so bad,” he says.

“Can I ask you something?” says Merlin.

“Okay,” says Arthur.

“Have you, like,” Merlin makes an awkwardly obscene gesture. “With a girl?”

Arthur gapes, then says, “Well… yes?”

“Oh,” says Merlin. “What was that like?”

“It wasn’t so bad,” says Arthur. He does not say any more and Merlin does not press him. They’re silent for a minute, sandwiched between the hum of traffic and the distant pounding of the club.

“I want to kiss you,” Merlin blurts out. “I mean, I _really_ want to kiss you.”

Arthur’s stomach ties itself into a knot. He thinks he might throw up, he’s drunk enough.

“But, it’s like – you’ve only just come out, I can’t just throw myself all over you, it wouldn’t be appropriate or whatever,” says Merlin. “So I thought I’d just tell you instead. For when you get your head sorted out and stuff.”

And Arthur looks at Merlin, at his lips and his cheekbones and the lines in his neck and the stupid rainbow t-shirt, and he wants to say that it’s fine, that of _course_ it’d be appropriate, but Merlin takes him by the hand and starts to lead him back towards the club before he can say anything at all.

 

*

 

Arthur wakes up the next morning with a hangover and finds Merlin’s number in his phone, so he texts him at half past eight in the morning to say ‘ _what about this cake, then?_ ’, and Merlin texts him back a string of expletives and ‘ _why are you even awake you wanker_ ’, but he adds a little kiss, then half an hour later Arthur’s phone goes off again.

_Can’t sleep now – breakfast?_

Possibly Arthur’s in way over his head, because twenty minutes later he’s in a café eating bacon rolls and pancakes with another gay guy (and does that make them gay pancakes? He’s really not sure).

Merlin is sleepy, bags under his eyes, obviously hungover, hair sticking up all over the place, and he’s _still_ wearing the rainbow shirt so he probably slept in his clothes, but Arthur _still_ wants to kiss him. _Badly_. Unfortunately, Merlin brought along his flatmate, who keeps eyeing Arthur suspiciously.

“Pancakes,” Merlin says, “are the perfect hangover breakfast.”

“Too sweet,” says Arthur.

“Merlin puts sugar on _everything_ ,” says Will, the flatmate.

“Sugar makes everything better,” says Merlin. He slides a pancake onto Arthur’s plate, and then Arthur has to eat it, because it’s a gift and all.

“You’ll ruin your teeth,” says Will. Merlin just laughs and licks syrup off his fingers, which gets Arthur looking at his fingers, and oh _fuck_.

Arthur has a horrible tendency to fixate on guys. Generally unattainably straight guys, and one time it was a teacher, and every single time he’s quite certain that this, _this_ is the one. Every. Fucking. Time. So really, he shouldn’t get too into this, because, because –

Merlin gets up to use the bathroom, and Will suddenly seizes the opportunity to take Arthur by the wrist and say, “I don’t know what you two did last night, but you got Merlin out of bed before noon and that never happens, so I’m seriously fucking confused right now.”

“I only texted him,” says Arthur weakly.

“Yeah, well, you got him all smiling and humming,” says Will. “And the last time he got like that, he ended up getting cheated on. _Twice_. By the same guy.”

“That’s not good,” says Arthur.

“All I’m saying is, Merlin has terrible taste, so I _really_ don’t feel like trusting you. You’ve known him like a day.”

“Um?” says Arthur.

Merlin comes back then and digs into what’s left of his pancakes, which thankfully ended the conversation before it got any more awkward, but left Arthur feeling mostly confused.

Once they finish, Will and Merlin walk Arthur back to the end of his road, despite his protests that he didn’t need looking after, thank you very much, and then they stand in the sun, and Merlin says,

“So. See you next weekend, I guess? For cake?”

“I guess,” says Arthur. Merlin’s eyes flick to Arthur’s lips, or maybe he imagines that, but either way it does funny things to Arthur’s insides. Will clears his throat and Merlin waves goodbye and lets himself be dragged away, leaving Arthur alone on the corner.

*

The next time he sees Merlin, he is in the library. Not because he wants to be – it’s the first week of term, for fuck’s sake – but because Lance is insisting on getting in early to start his dissertation and he dragged Arthur along with him. Sometimes Lance forgets that not every is as keen as he is.

So Arthur is stuck hovering in the Arts and Humanities section while Lance fetches his books – he is a business and marketing student, and he feels only marginally less out of place than he did in the gay bar – when he sees Merlin.

He almost doesn’t go over – because Merlin is balancing a reasonably large stack of books and looks quite engrossed, and possibly he shouldn’t talk to Merlin in the library where people might see, since Merlin is gay and all – but then he figures what the hell, might as well.

“Hi,” he says.

Merlin looks up, stumbles, and almost drops his books. Arthur reaches out to steady him, then changes his mind, and stands awkwardly with his hands out as Merlin balances himself. “Oh, hello,” Merlin says. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“My flatmate dragged me in, usually I wouldn’t be here this early in the semester,” says Arthur. Merlin nods along. He’s no longer bedecked in rainbows – his shirt has some sort of design on it, but it’s so faded Arthur can hardly make it out, and it’s dark blue rather than pink.

“I was going to text you,” says Merlin. “Six o’clock on Saturday sound good?”

“Bit early,” says Arthur, squinting at Merlin’s shirt.

“We’re having cake, cake is a tea time food,” says Merlin. He frowns and looks down at his chest. “Do I have something –”

“No, you’re good,” says Arthur. “I was just – you’re not all pink and sparkly. I almost didn’t recognise you.”

“I’m only occasionally pink and sparkly,” says Merlin. He hefts his books. “I’m about done here, I should –”

“Need a hand with those?”

“No, I’m good,” says Merlin. He hesitates for a moment, then says, “You want to go get a coffee or something?”

Arthur considers this. He probably shouldn’t, because he’s supposed to be waiting for Lance and all. “Sure,” he says. “Where do you want to go?”

He texts Lance on the way out of the library, and almost feels guilty about not feeling guilty about leaving.

 

*

 

Merlin studies politics, which means he is very passionate about a lot of issues that Arthur has only a passing interest in. He goes off on a rant while they’re waiting for their coffee about cuts and pensions and the NHS and all sorts of things like that, and it seems to take about ten minutes before Merlin’s brain catches up with his mouth and he realises just how wildly he’s been gesticulating.

“Sorry,” he says, suddenly sheepish. “Am I boring you?”

“Not at all,” says Arthur.

“I’m boring you,” says Merlin.

Their coffee arrives then, and Merlin adds about half a dozen little sachets of sugar, sits and stirs gently. Arthur watches, drumming his fingers on the table. He can’t quite bring himself to drink his own, because he’s just so goddamn _nervous_. He’s never been this nervous on a date before. He’s not even sure if this _is_ a date. Usually on dates he is cool and suave and by the end of the night the girl pretty much wants to marry him.

“I’m thinking you’re not always this shy,” says Merlin, breaking the mildly awkward silence. He sucks on his spoon – the tip of his tongue just flicks out to lick at it – and sets it down on the table.

“I’m not shy,” says Arthur.

“No, I guess not,” says Merlin. “Shy’s not really the right word, more like… neurotic?”

“I am not neurotic!” Arthur exclaims.

“Sorry,” says Merlin. He does not look sorry.

“I’m just really new to this, alright?” Arthur says, lowering his voice. “Being… gay. I’m not used to it. I don’t even know _how_ to be gay.”

“You see to be doing alright so far.” Merlin sips his coffee. He mostly looks amused.

“You know what I mean,” says Arthur. “I’m not shy, I just don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Look,” says Merlin. “In my experience, being gay is pretty much like being straight, except you make out with more guys and people make a thing out of it and sometimes you eat rainbow coloured food. It’s really not that complicated.”

“You’re really set on the cake thing, huh?” says Arthur.

“I’ll text you my address,” says Merlin. “It’ll be fun. I think I have some edible glitter somewhere!” Arthur’s bafflement must show on his face, because Merlin laughs.

“I don’t have to learn to bake and shit, do I?” says Arthur.

“Oh, totally,” says Merlin. “You also have to cultivate an interest in clothes and musical theatre and start calling everyone ‘darling’. It’s more fun that way.”

“I hate you,” says Arthur.

“No, you don’t,” says Merlin.

They are quiet for a moment. Then Arthur says, “So, um, about the other night –”

“How do you feel about balloons?” Merlin interrupts.

Arthur blinks. “Balloons are nice,” he says.

“Good,” says Merlin. “’Cause I’ve got a whole cupboard full of them from this event we did last year and I need to use them up.”

“You’re having balloons this weekend, then?” says Arthur. Merlin nods. “Why?”

“Everyone should have balloons when they come out,” says Merlin. “I wish I’d had balloons when I came out, it would have been much more fun. I did get cake, though.”

Arthur sighs. “I’m not even really out yet,” he says. “No-one knows but you and your friends and, no offence, but I’m not even sure that counts.”

“Come out to more people, then?”

“Oh, no,” says Arthur, holding up his hands. “No way.”

“I’m sure your friends are more tolerant than you give them credit for,” says Merlin.

“You don’t know my friends,” says Arthur darkly.

“Sometimes people surprise you, I guess,” says Merlin. “Good luck, yeah?” Then he smiles, and his smile is so warm and happy that Arthur feels his stomach go all soft and squirmy. Then Merlin insists on buying chocolate cake for them both, which doesn’t really help with the queasiness.

 

*

 

Lance is already in the flat by the time Arthur gets home making himself a sandwich in the kitchen.

“Oh, there you are,” he says. “You rushed off earlier.”

“Something came up,” says Arthur.

“It’s alright, so long as it was important,” says Lance, who is always too bloody nice about everything.

“I met a friend and we went to have coffee,” says Arthur. “It might have been a date, actually, I’m not sure.”

“Oh, really?” says Lance, perking up. “Who is she? Do I know her?”

Arthur’s brain grinds to a halt, then slowly starts up again. It occurs to him distantly that now is probably a good time to mention that whole being gay thing, since Lance is one of his only friends who is not likely to get really fucking pissed off about it, but he can’t quite bring himself to do it. “No,” he says stiffly. “No, uh – no, you don’t know them. Her. She. This girl. Who I had coffee with. She is not someone that you know. Um.”

Lance is looking at him funny and munching on his sandwich. “Huh?” he says.

“Okay,” says Arthur. “Okay! We need to talk.”

“Can’t it wait?” says Lance. “I’m eating a sandwich.”

“No,” says Arthur. It’s taken him almost twenty years to work up the nerve to come out, he’s not going to be stopped by a stupid sandwich. Even if it is a triple-decker. “It’s important. I’m not – I haven’t been entirely honest, okay? There’s a lot of stuff. Personal stuff. That I’ve not been telling people. And, well, I have a lot of feelings, I know I pretend to be all stoic and macho and shit, but – not that I’m not stoic and macho, I mean, I’m totally macho, I just – well, you know. You know?”

Lance swallows his mouthful. “No?”

Arthur closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. “Lance,” he says. “I’m gay.” He stands there with his eyes closed – the floor creaks, but otherwise there is complete silence – until he can’t stand it.

“Oh,” Lance says. “Alright, then.” He goes back to his sandwich.

“Is that all you’re going to say?” says Arthur.

Lance considers this. “I don’t know, I’ll have to think about it. What do you want me to say?”

“Well, I don’t know,” says Arthur. He rubs at the back of his neck. “I didn’t really think that far ahead, it was all a bit spur-of-the-moment. I haven’t really told anyone yet.”

“Oh, really?” says Lance. “Wow, that means a lot.” He frowns. “So this person you’re dating is of the male persuasion, then?” Arthur nods. “Okay. Good for you!”

“I’m not even sure we’re dating,” says Arthur. “I’m no good with guys yet, I don’t know how to tell ‘coffee’ from coffee and I think I keep saying really stupid things…”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” says Lance.

“I went along to LGBT soc,” says Arthur, morose. “And now they’re throwing me a coming-out party. With rainbow coloured cake. And apparently balloons. Want to come?”

“I’ll pass, thanks,” says Lance.

Arthur can’t quite find it in himself to protest. He goes back to his room instead and texts Merlin. _Just came out to my flatmate was ok._

Merlin texts him back a few minutes later. _Thats great so happy for you! xoxoxo ;)_

Arthur’s really not sure what to make of that at all.

 

*

 

When Arthur gets to Merlin’s flat just before six on Saturday – he tends to be early, he gets it from his father – Merlin is in the kitchen, adding the finishing touches to his rainbow cake, and there are balloons _everywhere_. They’ve been affixed to every balloon-affixable surface, and the remainder is littering the floor. Arthur wades ankle deep through them to the kitchen.

“You really meant it about the balloons, then,” he says.

“I figured I might as well just finish them off,” says Merlin. “I also have vodka.” He finishes stirring his icing and starts to spoon it into the –

“Is that a piping bag?” says Arthur.

“Yep,” says Merlin brightly.

“You have a _piping bag_?” says Arthur.

“Two piping bags, actually.”

“God, you’re such a girl,” says Arthur.

“Let’s not be gender-stereotyping,” says Merlin. “Baking is fun and delicious.”

“Yeah, but piping?” says Arthur.

“It’s pretty,” says Merlin. And yes, his rainbow _is_ very pretty. When Arthur crosses the room to look at it. Merlin is midway through piping _Congrats Arthur!_ in bright pink.

“You really didn’t have to make such a big deal,” says Arthur. “You hardly even know me.”

“Yeah, well, I want to get to know you, and cake is good for that,” says Merlin. He finishes his piping with a flourish and a swirl, and then starts licking the dribbles of icing off his hands, tongue lapping up his wrist.

“That’s disgusting,” says Arthur, eyes following the shiny wet trail Merlin’s tongue leaves as it worms its way up his arm.

“It’s yummy, I’m not wasting it,” says Merlin.

Merlin is _very flexible_ , Arthur realises when he starts licking icing off his own elbow. He watches open-mouthed for a bit, and can’t help but wonder what other uses that skill could be put to, and then he’s thinking about Merlin licking icing off _him_ , and that’s not a good thing to be thinking about, because, well, Merlin might not even like him, it’s all very confusing.

Thankfully Gwaine has the decency to arrive then, bearing tequila and a wide smile. He hugs Arthur enthusiastically, then Merlin, lifting him off his feet a little, and then admires the cake.

“Looks good,” he says.

“Yeah,” says Arthur.

“I like the glitter,” says Gwaine. “And good move with the white icing.” Merlin hums in agreement. “Last time,” Gwaine says to Arthur. “He used blue icing. It did _not_ end well.”

“No?” says Arthur.

“No,” says Gwaine. “We all shat blue for days. It was gross.”

“Gwaine!” says Merlin, horrified. “That’s disgusting.”

“I’m not the one who wanted to compare shades,” says Gwaine.

“ _Gwaine_!” says Merlin. He blushes bright, adorable red. Arthur isn’t sure if the whole situation is endearing or horrifying.

Gwaine sets his tequila down on the table and deposits a few DVDs next to it. “I brought some porn for later,” he says, with a wink, then wanders out the room. Arthur hears him greet Will in the hallway – a muffled, outraged squawk that’s probably the result of another hug.

“I can just forget about that whole – y’know – blue thing. If you like,” says Arthur.

“That’d be good, yeah,” says Merlin, still looking aghast. He’s clutching a mixing bowl to his chest now.

Will comes into view in the doorway, halfway into his shoes. “I’m going down the pub,” he says. “Leave you all to it.”

“Have fun!” says Merlin.

“We’ll save you some cake,” says Arthur. Will gives him a sullen look and grunts a goodbye. The door clatters shut behind him. “I don’t think he likes me,” says Arthur.

“Will doesn’t like a lot of people,” says Merlin. “You know. Hipsters, medical students, libertarians, neo-Pagans, organised religion, the government – it’s a pretty long list. I’m sure it’s nothing personal.”

“I guess,” says Arthur. He picks up one of Gwaine’s DVDs from the table, then puts it down again in a hurry.

“We’re not watching those,” says Merlin. “I told Gwaine we might watch some gay films, I guess he got carried away –”

“Gay films?”

“Yeah, you know. Like regular films, but _gay_.” He even does jazz hands. Arthur aims a punch at his arm.

“It’s only been a week and I hate you already,” he says.

 

*

 

It’s not as if Arthur is short on friends. Arthur has over a thousand friends on facebook and he knows who at least some of them are. He has friends in his seminars and friends from fencing and friends from his hall of residence and friends from rugby and a small army of drinking buddies, not to mention all his old school friends that he sees when he goes home for the holidays. Arthur doesn’t go out of his way to make new friends. He has plenty.

So all in all, he’s rather surprised at how good it feels to be in a room full of gay people. He can’t quite put his finger on what it is, exactly. There’s just something about it that feels so _right_. They’re not even his friends – they’re Merlin’s friends, he’s just tagging along – but still. He’s met more gay people in the last week than he has in his whole life, and it feels _fantastic_.

Freya and Elena are there, and a slightly scary girl called Morgause, and some guy called Gilli whose ears might just rival Merlin’s, Cedric, Owain, a few other people whose names Arthur doesn’t catch – and all of Merlin’s friends have the weirdest names, _seriously_.

It all goes pretty well at first, until Merlin fetches the cake, and then suddenly Arthur is the centre of attention. Everyone seems to want to congratulate him. As delicious and rainbow-coloured and swirly as the cake is, Arthur doesn’t feel comfortable, and he’s not sure why because he usually loves attention.

“I’m not even properly out yet,” he admits to Gwaine once the cake is all cut and served. “I’ve only told one person.”

“Tell more people, then,” says Gwaine with a little shrug. He makes it sound so simple.

“It’s not that simple,” says Arthur. “My friends – they’d hate me for this.”

“Look, mate,” says Gwaine. “If they don’t want to be your friends ’cause you’re gay, they weren’t worth having in the first place, yeah?” His tone is so fierce that Arthur can only think he is speaking from experience.

“I guess,” he says.

“Good luck,” says Gwaine. “We’re all here for you and shit.”

They watch a film, and then another film, and Arthur hasn’t even heard of most of them, and then before he knows it it’s four in the morning and everyone has gone home except Gwaine, who is fast asleep on the sofa.

In the kitchen, Merlin is finishing up the last of the cake.

“More cake?” he says.

“Sounds good to me,” says Arthur. Merlin cuts him a slice, and he eats it without bothering with a plate, showering rainbow-coloured crumbs down his shirt. “You know, this isn’t how I normally spend my Saturday nights.”

“No?” says Merlin.

“Well, normally there’s more night clubs and drunkenness involved. This was fun too, though. I mean – cake!”

“I’ll make you more cake sometime,” says Merlin, sleepy. “Cake is good.”

“D’you think I should come out to my sister?” says Arthur.

“That sounds like a good plan,” says Merlin. He yawns.

Arthur finishes his slice of cake. “I should go, I guess,” he says. “Let you get some sleep.”

“No, you can stay,” says Merlin. Then, “I mean – not in that way! It’s just late is all, if you want – I don’t think Will’ll be back now, you can have his bed, I’m sure he won’t mind.”

Arthur is pretty sure Will _will_ mind, very much. “I’m okay,” he says. He turns to leave, but Merlin stops him.

“You have frosting,” he says. “On your face. Just here…” He wipes at Arthur’s mouth with his thumb. Arthur does not normally like people pawing at him and adjusting him, but just for once, he’s willing to let it slide, because Merlin’s fingers are gentle and a tiny bit rough against his face, and now he’s looking at Merlin’s lips again, and _shit_. Arthur swallows.

Merlin flinches away. “You should go,” he says. “It’s late. I’ll see you soon. Will you be at the soc meeting on Tuesday?”

“I guess, yeah,” says Arthur. He should kiss Merlin good-bye. He should just do it. It’s not like he hasn’t done it a hundred times before, to all sorts of girls. He knows how to kiss. He’s _good_ at this.

Instead, he gets bundled out the door onto the landing, with a few hasty good-byes and good-nights, and he swears to himself under his breath as he goes down the stairs.

 

*

 

He calls up Morgana the next day.

“We need to talk,” he says. “It’s important.”

“How important?” she says.

“Very important,” he says. “I have some very serious news for you.”

She’s silent for a moment. Then, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, mostly,” he says. He takes a deep breath. “Morgana, I’m gay.”

She lets out an audible sigh of relief. “Is that all?” she says. “Oh god, you had me worried there, I thought it was actually something serious rather than you being a drama queen.”

“You don’t mind, then?” says Arthur.

Morgana laughs. “Arthur, sweetheart,” she says. “I knew before you did. Congratulations on finally admitting it. Anything else you want to talk about?”

“Well,” says Arthur, a little sheepish. “There’s this guy.”

“Ohh,” says Morgana. “There’s a guy, is there?”

“Don’t be like that,” he says. “It’s just – he said he liked me but since then he’s been all – and I’m not usually like this, I’m _good_ at this stuff, but – I don’t know, it’s just so hard all of a sudden.”

“Don’t you think you’re rushing things a bit?” says Morgana. “You only just came out. Are you sure you want to be dating guys already?”

“I know what I’m doing,” says Arthur.

“Doesn’t sound like it to me,” says Morgana. “Look, just relax, alright? If he likes you, he likes you, there’s no need to stress over it.”

“I can’t just relax,” says Arthur. “That’s not how dating works. You have to be all, y’know. Seductive. And charming. With girls, anyway. Do guys need to be charmed?”

“How should I know?” says Morgana. “You’re a guy. Work it out for yourself.”

“What does that even mean,” says Arthur.

“Well, what would you like you to do if you were him?” says Morgana.

“That sentence has too many pronouns in it,” says Arthur. Not to mention he doesn’t even know. Dating has always been for show, because as long as he has a pretty blonde girlfriend, everyone will think he is straight. Whether or not he really likes them had never been much of an issue.

“You’re the one making this complicated, not me,” says Morgana. “Arthur, really – I’m sure he likes you just fine. You’re adorable.”

Arthur pulls a face. “M’not adorable,” he says.

“Yes, you are,” she says. “You’re my little brother. Go get him. Good luck!”

She hangs up the phone. Arthur glowers at the wall. He does not feel particularly enlightened by that conversation.

 

*

 

The first proper LGBT-soc meeting of the semester is in the student union, and Merlin is wearing his rainbow t-shirt again when he greets Arthur with a smile.

“Hi!” he says.

“You’re all pink again,” says Arthur.

“Well, it helps people find us,” says Merlin. “Besides, it’s growing on me.” He tugs at the hem. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” says Arthur. “I came out to my sister.”

“Oh, how’d that go?” says Merlin.

“Alright,” says Arthur. “Turns out she already knew.”

Merlin laughs. “Sisters,” he says. “Did you read the email?”

“Email?” says Arthur.

“On the society mailing list?” says Merlin. “About what we’re doing tonight?”

“You have a mailing list?” says Arthur.

“Well – yes?” says Merlin. “We’re doing bonding exercises.”

“Oh, bonding, eh?” says Arthur. He raises his eyebrows.

“Not like that!” Merlin punches his arm. “Like, games and stuff. Want to be in my group?”

Arthur notices for the first time that the chairs have all been arranged in circles. He feels as if he is back in school. Great. “You have a group?”

“Yes,” says Merlin. “We’re team unicorn!” He points at his shirt.

“Not team rainbow?” says Arthur.

“No. Unicorn.” Merlin’s tone is insistent. “Anyway, I’m running it, so it’s the best team.”

Arthur pictures Merlin trying to run bonding exercises. The mental image is not unlike someone trying to herd badgers. “Really? You?”

“Yeah, why?” says Merlin.

“I just have a hard time picturing you running anything,” says Arthur.

“I run things all the time!” Merlin protests. “I’m on the committee. I’m the society treasurer!” Arthur shrugs. “I organise all the finances?”

“Sounds like… fun,” says Arthur.

“I have access to the society bank account,” says Merlin.

“Oh, really?” says Arthur. “So you could just, what, take money out for anything you wanted and charge it as ‘miscellaneous expenses’?”

“Well, I guess,” says Merlin. “But why would I want to do that?”

“Free booze?” Arthur suggests.

“But that’d be… wrong. And immoral!” says Merlin.

“So?” says Arthur with a little shrug.

Merlin actually looks shocked. “You’re despicable!” He takes Arthur by the arm and starts to lead him towards the chairs. “C’mon. Into the circle with you.”

“Alright, fine, stop manhandling me,” says Arthur.

“Oh, I’ll manhandle you good,” says Merlin.

Arthur should probably be laughing at that, but his brain fills itself with images of Merlin _manhandling_ him and promptly overloads, so it takes him a good few seconds to register that it was probably just a joke.

“Um,” he says. “Right.” He chuckles. Merlin gives him an odd look and thrusts him down into a chair.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he says, and darts off.

Arthur sits there on his own for a while – the circle is not that large but hardly anyone is sitting down yet so he feels a little awkward all by himself – until Gwaine arrives and takes the chair next to him, climbing up over the back with a cheery, “lo, Arthur.”

“Hi,” says Arthur. “Aren’t you on the committee? Don’t you get your own group?”

“Nah, I’m banned after last time,” says Gwaine. “Apparently strip poker isn’t an appropriate bonding game, who knew?”

“Probably more fun that whatever’s planned for tonight,” says Arthur.

“It’s not all bad, we’re going down to the bar after,” says Gwaine. “I’m thinking tequila. Tuesday is tequila day.”

“I thought every day was tequila day?” says Arthur.

“Nah, I have a schedule,” says Gwaine.

On the other side of the room, Merlin is chatting with Elena and holding a clipboard. He laughs at something and the sound carries, and suddenly all Arthur can think is that Merlin makes pink unicorn shirts and clipboards look really good, and is that even possible?

Gwaine pinches his arm. “Ow!” says Arthur. “Did you just pinch me?”

“Yep,” says Gwaine. “I was talking and you were eyeing up Merlin.”

“I wasn’t!” says Arthur. “I was just looking in his general direction.”

“Oh, that’s a pity,” says Gwaine. “’Cause he fancies you.”

“Wait, really?” says Arthur. “He told you that?”

Gwaine chuckles. “Mate, I know Merlin. I can tell when he fancies someone,” he says. Arthur swallows and tries to look macho and stoic, but he must have failed miserably, because Gwaine says, “You’ve really got it bad, haven’t you?”

“Don’t be silly,” says Arthur. “I’ve known him, what, a week? I just – I don’t know. He’s – _adorable_.”

“Yeah, I know,” says Gwaine. He leans in a little and says softly, “Ask him out if you like, but if you _ever_ hurt him, I will break your fucking arms, yeah?”

“Understood,” says Arthur.

“’Cause I talked to Elena and she says you don’t have the best track record,” says Gwaine.

“Oh, come on, based on one girl?” says Arthur. “I’ve had lots of girlfriends. They didn’t all cry that much.”

“Just watch it,” says Gwaine. “Merlin’s not good at picking guys. He dated _Cenred_.”

Arthur has only been introduced to Cenred in passing, but he remembers a pony tail, far too much leather, and an unpleasantly leering grin. He shudders. “I’m not that bad, surely.”

“Then before that he dated Gilli for a while,” says Gwaine. “They’re alright now, but you could _not_ have those two in the same room for a while.”

“What, were they fighting?” says Arthur.

“Not fighting, exactly,” says Gwaine. “More like… longing, intense stares. _Constantly_. And insisting they could never be together. It got old really fast. They were on and off for what, a year?”

Arthur looks at Gilli. He looks at Merlin. His stomach churns a little. “Really?”

“Yeah, it was kind of ridiculous,” says Gwaine. “And then –”

Morgause starts shouting for people to choose a group then, so Gwaine falls silent as people start to join the circle all around them. Once they are all settled, Merlin takes the last remaining seat – right on the opposite side of the circle from Arthur – clipboard still in hand, and begins.

“Right,” he says. “Hello, everyone. I’m Merlin, I’m the society treasurer. Welcome to team unicorn!”

“So you’re in charge, then?” says Gwaine.

“Yes,” says Merlin. “I have a clipboard, see? That means I’m in charge.”

“Alright,” says Gwaine. “Want us to call you sir?”

A few people giggle, including Merlin. “Ignore him, he’s just Gwaine,” he says. “Now, we’re going to go around the circle and all say our names and three things about ourselves.” Arthur swears inwardly. He is not good at talking about himself. “I’ll start. I’m Merlin, I like baking, I have three cats at home, and on rainy days I like to listen to country music. Okay?” He turns to the girl next to him.

“I’m Helen,” she says. “I’m studying music, my favourite colour is purple, and… I secretly love _Red Dwarf_?”

They go around the circle like that, and Arthur honestly cannot think of a single thing, beyond what his course is. He sticks his hands in his pockets and tries to look inconspicuous, as if that might somehow cause them to pass over him altogether, but naturally that doesn’t work. The guy next to him finishes up his three things as smoothly as everyone else, and then it’s Arthur’s turn.

“I’m Arthur,” he says. “I’m studying business and marketing, and… I guess I’m not interesting enough to come up with two more things. Sorry?”

“Oh, come on,” says Merlin. “You’re not boring. I’m sure you can come up with something else!” Arthur shrugs and gestures for them to move on. “You said you were on the fencing team, right?”

“I guess,” says Arthur.

“He plays rugby too,” Gwaine adds, ever-helpful.

“Well, there you go, then!” says Merlin, who is too bright and cheerful for his own good, _seriously_. Arthur tries not to glare, but breathes a sigh of relief when they _finally_ move on to Gwaine.

“I’m Gwaine,” he says. “I’m the society webmaster, I study computer science, and today is tequila day!”

Arthur raises his eyebrows. Once the next person starts talking, he whispers, “Computer science? Really? You?”

“Yeah, why so surprised?” says Gwaine.

“You just don’t seem the type,” says Arthur.

“What, ’cause I don’t have specs and an anorak?” says Gwaine. “You’re very judgemental, you know that?”

“Am not,” Arthur mutters.

Once they finish the ‘three things’ game, Merlin has them all trying to learn each other’s names, which Arthur isn’t that bad at, and then playing a bunch of other getting-to-know-each-other kind of games, most of which are at least a little ridiculous, and none of which Arthur can muster up that much enthusiasm for. He feels terrible, because they’re Merlin’s games, and he seems so keen on it all.

When it’s finally over and team unicorn has disbanded, he sidles up to Merlin, and says, “Sorry for being so rubbish at your games.”

“No, it’s fine,” says Merlin. “I mean, I wasn’t that surprised, you don’t really seem like the bonding game type.”

“Really not, I guess,” says Arthur. Merlin is writing something on his clipboard. Arthur leans across to see what it is, but Merlin’s handwriting is an abominable scrawl and he can’t make it out. The doodled stars and flowers and unicorns are quite clearly discernable, however.

“You are such a stereotype,” he mutters.

“Sorry?” says Merlin.

“Nothing,” says Arthur. “So… I hear you and Gilli were a thing?”

“Oh, god,” says Merlin. “Don’t talk to me about that. It was just kind of –” He makes a vague, horrified sort of gesture. “You know?”

“Um. I think so?” says Arthur.

“It just wasn’t a good time for me,” says Merlin. Arthur waits for him to go on, to see if he’ll say whether or not it’s over for good, and how long has it been since they were last on, but he doesn’t.

“I’m surprised it didn’t work,” Arthur says. “I mean, your ears are clearly a match made in heaven.”

Merlin tugs at his ear, face falling. “Is there something wrong with my ears?” he says, appalled. “Do you think they’re funny-looking?”

 _Oh god_. “No!” says Arthur. “No, I just meant –”

“When I was in school everyone used to call me Dumbo,” Merlin says. It’s as if years of emotional trauma are bubbling to the surface. Arthur panics.

“There’s nothing wrong with your ears!” he says quickly. “Your ears are lovely. They suit you! They look good on you! On the sides of your head, I mean. Because that’s where ears are meant to be. I mean, if they were anywhere else, you’d be kind of deformed. And you’re not deformed! At all! You’re beautifully formed!” He breaks off and takes a breath. “That’s the opposite of deformed! Your ears are the opposite of deformed!”

Merlin’s expression has gone from traumatised to amused. He cracks up.

“Why are you laughing?” says Arthur. “Stop laughing at me!”

“I’m not laughing at you,” says Merlin between giggles. “Well, alright, yeah, I’m laughing at you. You’re just so – _you_.” He takes a deep breath and tries to stop laughing. “Thank you. I appreciate it. I’m glad you don’t think my ears are deformed.”

“They’re really not,” says Arthur weakly.

The room is starting to empty as people decamp to the bar. Arthur is glad, because he _really_ needs a drink now. But on the other hand, if they linger in the room a little longer, till everyone else is gone –

“We should probably head downstairs,” says Merlin, awkward all over.

“I guess, yeah,” says Arthur.

“I mean, all the good tables will be gone…”

“I’m sure Gwaine will save us a spot,” says Arthur. “If we’re a couple of minutes late.”

Merlin shifts a little and licks his lip. Arthur’s gaze follows the motion. _Oh god_. He should just do it. He should just lean in and kiss Merlin. It’s not like he needs permission or anything, Merlin already said he wanted it – and it would be so _good_ , he’s sure it would –

“Are we the last ones left?” says Merlin, looking around. “Guess so! Better go.” He takes Arthur’s arm and starts to drag him again, straight out the doors and down the stairs. “Don’t want to be late for tequila!”

The bar is crowded and noisy and full of Merlin’s friends. Arthur can’t help but be sullen as he joins Gwaine and Freya and Elena at the table. He’s going about this all wrong. He knows he is. He just can’t work out what the right way is.

By the end of the night, when Merlin vanishes away with scarcely even a good-bye (slips off while Arthur is in the bathroom, asks Gwaine to say good night for him, the wanker), Arthur is sure he is doomed.

 

*

 

Arthur sits in his kitchen the next morning, nursing an angst-ridden tequila-induced hangover, while Lance makes them both bacon and egg sandwiches and tries to be supportive in a manly, macho sort of way. This mostly involves grunting and hmm-ing at the right moments in Arthur’s hazy ramble.

“I don’t understand,” he says. “I’m good with girls, right? If I want to make out with a girl I can always get her to do it. Always! Well, except that one time, but I’m pretty sure she was a lesbian so it totally doesn’t count. Why isn’t it working this time, Lance? What happened to my suave kissability?”

“I don’t think that’s a word, you know,” says Lance. He sets a plate and a mug down in front of Arthur.

“Some best friend you are,” says Arthur. He digs into his sandwich. The bacon is extra-crispy, just how he likes it. “It doesn’t even make sense!” he says with his mouth full. “Why does it only work on girls? I don’t even like girls!”

“Yeah, about that,” says Lance. “Does this mean you don’t like girls at all?”

“Well… yes?” says Arthur.

“But you’ve dated loads of girls,” says Lance. “You must have liked them at least some of them?”

“I guess,” says Arthur. “Just not in that way. They were nice enough, I suppose?” His ramble has been very successfully derailed.

“But,” says Lance. “But…”

“But what?” says Arthur. Lance gives up trying to explain himself and cups his hands in front of his chest, bashful. “Yeah, doesn’t do it for me.”

“Really?” says Lance.

“Too squishy,” says Arthur. “They just get in the way.” Lance looks baffled. “Just eat your sandwich, okay?”

 

*

 

It’s only a couple of weeks into the term, so Arthur is a little out of practice when it comes to fencing (or fencing with other people, at least). As such, he is a little slower than usual in his bout with Leon when he gets so thoroughly distracted, but he’s only one point down, and he’s _totally_ going to win.

Until Merlin wanders into view, waving cheerfully at him, and Arthur is all of a sudden baffled and anxious. He freezes up. Leon gets another touch in before he can react.

“Time, guys!” someone calls. Arthur grits his teeth. He hates losing. He hates it very, very much. He takes off his mask, shakes hands with Leon, then goes to talk to Merlin.

“Hi!” Merlin says as he approaches.

“What are you doing here?” says Arthur.

“Gwaine brought me,” says Merlin. “He’s meeting Leon after. I thought I’d tag along. I was interested.” He bites his lip. “Is that okay?”

“It’s fine,” Arthur says. “I’m not usually that rubbish, though. Just so you know.”

“You were rubbish?” says Merlin. “I really don’t know anything about fencing, I have no idea how this works.”

“Oh,” says Arthur. “Well, in that case, I totally won!”

Merlin laughs. “Sorry if I messed up your duel,” he says.

“It’s not a duel, it’s a bout,” says Arthur.

“Oh, really?” Merlin frowns. “Why don’t you call them duels any more? It’s way more exciting.”

“Because we… don’t?” says Arthur.

Their conversation is just starting to be a little awkward when Gwaine and Leon arrive, laughing together. Leon starts to introduce them, but Gwaine cuts him off.

“We’ve met already,” he says.

“Oh?” says Leon.

“Yeah, at LGBT soc,” Gwaine says. “Hey, guys –”

“ _You_ go to LGBT soc?” Leon interrupts, turning to Arthur. Arthur gapes back.

“Yes?” he says. “Thanks, _Gwaine_.”

“What? It’s Leon, he doesn’t care.” Gwaine shrugs. He has his innocent face on. Arthur may only have known Gwaine for a month, but he can already recognise his innocent face.

“Well, _still_ ,” says Arthur. He toys with his mask awkwardly, then turns to Leon. “Um. Yeah. I’m gay.” It gets easier every time he says it.

“Ah,” says Leon. He looks a little troubled.

“What?” says Arthur. It can’t be a problem. Leon’s _dated guys_ , why would he have a problem?

“It’s just,” says Leon. “Well – is this a new thing or have I been really thick?”

“Oh,” says Arthur. He is a little of ashamed at just how relieved his is. “I’ve been gay for a while now, but other people knowing is a new thing, yeah.”

“Oh, great,” says Leon. “I was worried then.” He punches Arthur on the arm. “Good for you, mate!”

“Thanks?” says Arthur.

“Anyway, now that’s sorted,” says Gwaine. “We’re going for drinks now, want to come?”

“Sounds good to me,” says Arthur. He gestures at Leon. “We need to change, though.”

“See you outside, then!” says Gwaine cheerily.

Once he and Merlin are safely out of earshot, Arthur turns to Leon.

“So did you really date Gwaine?” he says.

“Well, that depends a little on your definition of dating,” says Leon. “There weren’t many actual _dates_ involved. But yeah.”

Arthur considers this. “I’m not sure if I’m jealous or appalled,” he says. Leon laughs.

 

*

 

They end up crowded into some tiny pub that Gwaine likes (might have something to do with the number of Irish people there, Arthur isn’t sure). It’s too dingy and crowded and old-smelling for Arthur’s tastes, but there is beer, so all is good.

“So how many people are you out to, exactly?” Leon asks him.

“Not counting people at gay soc?” Arthur says. “Um. Three. You, Lance and my sister.”

“Are you going to tell your dad?” says Leon.

“Fuck, no,” says Arthur.

“Why not?” says Merlin. He’s drinking vodka and lemonade. The barman looked at him funny when he asked about cocktails.

“He’d kill me,” says Arthur. “And then disown me. Then kill me again.”

“You know, I’m sure everyone in your life can’t be a raging homophobe,” says Merlin.

“No, he’s right,” says Leon. “I met his father once. He’s terrifying.”

“Besides, he’s not a homophobe,” says Arthur. “He’s fine with gay people, so long as they’re not his son. And they don’t get married. And they don’t come in his house. But other than that.”

“Arthur, love, that’s homophobia,” says Gwaine.

“Don’t call me ‘love’,” says Arthur.

“Sure, _sweetie_.” Gwaine grins at him. Arthur scowls. “Well, don’t be like that.”

“It’s okay,” says Merlin. “I like the pet names.”

“I know you do,” says Gwaine, with a wink. Arthur grits his teeth and texts Lance to see if he wants to come join them.

Lance brings Gwen, of course, because Lance is bad at lads’ nights. Arthur is not out to Gwen yet, which is silly, because she’s actually just about the only person he knows who he _doesn’t_ half expect to shun him forever. And yet somehow he still hasn’t got round to doing it. Funny, that.

Just to make matters worse, the moment Lance sits down, he says, “Oh, you must be Merlin. Arthur’s told me all about you.”

“He has?” says Merlin, leaning across the table. “Really? What did he tell you?”

Arthur would fix Lance with a hard stare, but to be honest, he can probably work it out for himself. “Nothing much, really,” says Lance. “Just that he knows you… and that you guys are… friends?”

“No, really,” says Merlin. “What’s he been telling you? I want to know!”

“Good things!” says Arthur. “Only good things.” Merlin honest-to-god pouts. Arthur has never seen a poutier pout. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” says Merlin. He stirs at his lemonade with his straw.

“Hi,” Gwen says to Arthur quietly. “Am I missing something here? I feel like I’m missing something here.”

“Ah,” Arthur says. “Well, for one thing, I’m gay now.”

“Oh, really?” she says. “That certainly explains a lot, then.”

“Like _what?_ ” says Arthur.

“Well, you’re the only guy I ever dated who didn’t like touching my –” She points at her chest. “You hardly even looked at them. In retrospect it was really weird.”

Arthur and Gwen had been a thing in school, for six months, which was a long time when you were fifteen. Arthur frowns, pondering this. He could probably use her advice. So the next time she gets up to use the ladies, he announces that he has to go too, and follows after.

He corners her just outside the toilets and says, “Gwen, I need your help!”

“Can’t it wait five minutes?” she says.

“No,” he says. “Gwen, remember when we were dating?”

“Well, yes,” she says.

“I was charming, right?” he says. “Delightfully so?”

“I suppose,” she says. “You were fifteen.”

“Charming in a fifteen year old sort of way, then?” he tries.

“Yes, I suppose,” she says. “It was a long time ago, though.”

“Is there anything I did in particular,” he says, “that made you want to date me?”

Gwen considers this. “I remember you used to pass me notes in lessons with little hearts, I liked that,” she says.

“That won’t work, I don’t have classes with Merlin,” says Arthur. “He’s in politics and I’m in business and marketing. Alright, what about Lance? Is there anything he did that I could try?”

Gwen’s eyes go soft. “Oh, I don’t know,” she says. “He was just so… Lance.”

“I see,” says Arthur. “So you’re saying I should be more like Lance?” That could work. Lance is practically beating girls off with a stick half the time, even if he’s too much of a gentleman to acknowledge it.

“No, of course not. That would be silly. Merlin likes _you_ , not Lance.”

“You think he likes me?” says Arthur.

“Of course,” says Gwen. “Didn’t you see the way he kept looking at you? It’s adorable.”

“Who said anything about adorable?” says Arthur. “Seriously, Gwen, I need your help. I don’t know what to do.”

“You could just ask him out,” says Gwen. “Can I go to the ladies now?”

“One more thing,” says Arthur. She sighs in exasperation, but waits. “Why is everyone so unsurprised about me being gay?”

“I don’t know,” says Gwen. “You just sort of have a gay vibe, I guess.”

“I have a _what_?” says Arthur. “I’m manly, right? Stoic and manly and butch? I was trying to hard to make everyone think I was straight, how can I have a _vibe_?”

“It’s not that noticeable,” says Gwen. “It’s not like I picked up on it before you came out. It’s just sort of like… looking back on it, it seems obvious, you know? ‘Oh, sure, of course Arthur’s gay!’”

“Was I trying to hard to be straight, is that what it is?” says Arthur.

“No, of course not,” says Gwen. “And you can be manly and stoic and still be gay, you know.” Arthur looks at her blankly. “I’m going to go pee now, alright?”

The rest of the night is mostly normal, except for the part where he’s in an Irish pub with a guy he can’t stop thinking uncharacteristically soppy thoughts about.  
Merlin leaves before midnight, because he’s a conscientious student like that.

“I can walk you home if you like,” Arthur says, starting to get up. That way they can be alone together, under the streetlights, and streetlights are romantic, right?

“No no, I’m fine,” says Merlin, disentangling himself from his chair. “Don’t worry, I know my way around, I won’t get lost.” Gwaine snorts. “Shut up, that only happened once or twice!”

“Yeah, but you might get mugged,” says Arthur. “Or gang raped!”

“I don’t need you defending me with your epic fencing skills,” says Merlin. “I’m fine.” He leaves.

Leon follows shortly thereafter, and then it’s just Arthur, Gwaine, Lance and Gwen. And a bottle of whisky, because Wednesday is whisky day. Arthur has never been a big whisky drinker before, but he quite likes it. Probably too much. He might be drowning his sorrows a little.

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong!” he wails some time around three. “I just want him to like me!”

“He already likes you,” says Gwaine. Gwen pats his shoulder, soothing.

“I’ve never felt this way about _anyone_ before,” says Arthur. “I want to write sonnets! About his ears! _Sonnets!_ I don’t even know what a sonnet _is_ and I still want to write one!”

“It’s a poem,” says Lance.

“I know that much,” says Arthur. He downs the rest of his glass. “It’s destiny, I tell you. _Destiny_. Why can’t he see that it’s destiny?”

“Look, mate,” says Gwaine, “as far as Merlin’s concerned, you’re just out the closet and you need space, and he might be right for all I know. But have you even talked to him about this?”

“I tried but he changed the subject to balloons,” says Arthur. “ _Balloons_. I want to write a sonnet about _balloons_.” He slumps down onto the table.

“My God he’s a downer when he’s drunk,” says Gwaine.

“Only some of the time,” says Lance.

Gwen puts an arm around Arthur’s shoulders. “Arthur, Merlin fancies the pants off you, alright? So just ask him out. I’m sure he’ll say yes.”

“Maybe I should cook him dinner,” says Arthur. He considers this. He only knows how to cook chicken and pasta. “Does Merlin like chicken?”

“He’s veggie,” says Gwaine. “Look, listen to the lady, yeah? Talk to him!”

“Destiny and chicken,” says Arthur. He giggles. “Yeah, alright, I’ll talk to him. Promise. Cross my heart!” He tries to draw a cross over his heart, but his fingers are thoroughly uncoordinated.

“I’m holding you to that,” says Gwaine.

Unfortunately, when Arthur wakes up the next morning, he remembers very little of his evening after they started the second bottle of whiskey. He ends up turning his phone off and spending most of the day in bed.

 

*

 

On Friday, when he is sober and hangover-free, Arthur has the misfortunate to run into Vivian outside one of the lecture theatres. He hasn’t seen her since before the summer and even then only in passing. Come to think of it, the last time they talked properly was probably when he broke up with her. Damn.

“So, how was your summer?” she says, through a smile that looks pasted on.

“Good,” says Arthur. “It was good. You?”

“Oh, it was alright,” says Vivian. “I went to Barbados. Met the most _gorgeous_ surfer. It’s a good thing I ran into you, I’d almost forgotten all about you.” She giggles.

“That’s nice,” says Arthur. “Listen. Er. Can I ask you something?”

“Well, that _depends_ ,” says Vivian. She crosses her arms.

“Like a favour,” he says.

She narrows her eyes. “I don’t see why I owe _you_ anything after what you did!” she says. “Heartless prick!”

“I’m sorry,” says Arthur. “I –”

“You can’t date someone for a whole _year_ and then break up with them because you’re –” she puts on what’s probably an approximation of his voice, “ _Not feeling it any more_ , then come crawling back and start asking for favours!”

“It wasn’t like that!” says Arthur.

“You met my _parents_ ,” says Vivian. “My mother loved you! She was going to put you on the Christmas card list!” She has teared up again.

“Look,” says Arthur. “I messed up. I’m sorry. I should have been more honest with you. About why we had to break up.”

Vivian dabs at her eyes with a hankie. “Oh, I’m sure you had a _very_ good reason.”

“I did!” says Arthur. “Look, I –” He glances over his shoulder, ushering her into a more secluded corner. “Can I tell you something in confidence?” Vivian sobs. All Arthur wants is for her to stop crying. “Vivian, I broke up with you because I’m gay. I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

Vivian peered at him from behind her hankie. “I’m sorry, did you say you were _gay_?”

Arthur’s heart sinks. He shouldn’t have told her. Oh god, _why_ did her tell her? “Um. Yes?”

She stares at him for a moment, then launches herself forward. For a moment he thinks she is trying to rugby tackle him, but then he realises that it’s a hug, of all things.

“Oh, Arthur!” she says. “I understand! I’m sorry I said you were a heartless prick!”

Not only is she still crying, she’s now crying on his shirt. He tries to push her away without being rude about it.

“I need your advice,” he says.

“Alright, then,” she says.

“When we starting going out,” he says, “is there anything I did that made you want to date me? Anything in particular?”

“Well, I don’t know,” she says. “You were just really fit, I guess.”

“Is that all?” he says.

“Well, that and I checked our horoscopes to see if we were starsign-compatible. I thought we were meant to be,” she says with a sigh.

“Yeah, okay,” he says. “Very helpful, thank you. Um. Can you maybe not tell anyone about this?”

“Oh, of course,” she says. “I would never.” She beams. “You know what this means?”

“No?” says Arthur.

“You are _definitely_ coming shopping with me and the girls this weekend!” She bobs up and down on her heels. “I suppose you were just pretending to be bored all those times, I had no idea you were such a good actor.”

“No, I was just really bored,” says Arthur.

“Oh, don’t be silly, Arthur,” says Vivian. She kisses him on the cheek and hurries away. “I’ll text you, alright?”

She already has her phone out of her pocket as she turns away. Arthur is familiar with Vivian’s definition of ‘not telling anyone’, and he’s pretty sure it’s not the same as most people’s. _**Fuck**_.

 

*

 

He lasts until around tea time. Then the paranoia really starts to set in, and he flees to Merlin’s flat.

Merlin answers the door wearing slippers and holding a plate of cheese on toast.

“Arthur?” he says.

“Hi,” says Arthur. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” says Merlin. “What’s up?”

“I’ve done something really stupid,” says Arthur, hurrying inside.

“Ah,” says Merlin. “D’you want something to eat? I find food always helps.”

“I’m good, thanks,” says Arthur. “I just came out to my ex-girlfriend!”

“Oh,” says Merlin. “Is that bad?”

“Bad?” says Arthur. “ _Bad_? I don’t know what I was thinking, Merlin! She’s – _Vivian_! She was already texting someone before we’d even finished talking! She will tell _all_ her friends, and they’ll probably tell all their friends, and then _everyone_ will know. _Everyone_.”

“I’m sure –” Merlin begins.

“Oh god,” says Arthur. The panic is really starting to rise now. “Oh, god – she’s met my father! What if she tells my father? He’ll kill me, Merlin! He’s going to kill me! And, and – she wants to take me _shopping_! With her friends! What am I going to do?”

Merlin frowns. Then he sets down his plate on the nearest shelf and does something quite unexpected – he steps forward and hugs Arthur tight.

“What was that for?” says Arthur. He wraps his arms around Merlin’s waist. He feels so small.

“You looked like you needed it,” says Merlin, his breath tickling Arthur’s ear. “Shopping? Seriously?”

“She thinks I’ve been pretending not to like clothes all this time,” says Arthur. “We’re going this weekend, apparently.”

“Are you actually going to go?” says Merlin. He pulls back a little.

“Hopefully not,” says Arthur. “Mind giving me an alibi?”

“I can probably manage,” says Merlin. “It’ll be fine, yeah? I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Can I hide in your flat until it’s over?” says Arthur.

“No!” a voice shouts from the kitchen. Apparently Will has been listening.

“You can hide here this evening if you like?” says Merlin. “I’ll make you soup!”

“Soup’s good for now,” says Arthur. Merlin leads him to the living room, and he sags down onto the battered sofa. “By the way – what’s your starsign?”

“Um,” says Merlin. “Virgo. Why?”

“Virgo? The lady? Really?” Arthur shakes his head. Merlin laughs, and _ruffles his hair_ of all things before going back to the kitchen.

Arthur touches his hair, which is probably a mess now, then fetches out his phone to look up star sign compatibility.

The first website he finds says Merlin is _not his destiny_ , so this whole star sign thing is clearly a load of shit.

After they’ve eaten soup and home-baked chocolate chip cookies and watched TV for a few hours, Merlin reaches new heights in his adorableness and actually falls asleep on Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur is still wondering if he should wake him up to save on embarrassment or just run with it and snuggle back when Will gets home from his night out.

He starts ranting about something or other that Arthur doesn’t follow the moment he’s in the door, then stops and glares.

“Oh. You’re still here, are you?”

“Clearly,” says Arthur.

“I was hoping you’d be gone.” Will settles himself in an armchair and continues to glare. “And why’s Merlin sleeping on you?”

“I dunno,” says Arthur. “He fell asleep. It’s cute.”

Will rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Are you going to keep being this obnoxious?” says Arthur. “Because I’m really not in the mood for it.”

“Oh yeah, ’cause of this whole thing with your ex-girlfriend or whatever,” says Will. “You think you’ve got problems? Please.”

“You’ve got it so much worse, I suppose,” says Arthur.

Will scoffs. “I’m talking about the bigger picture,” he says. “Honestly, you don’t ever think about anything outside of your pretty little world, do you?”

Arthur considers this. “Who are you calling ‘pretty’?” he says.

“Wanker,” Will snaps.

Arthur shushes him. “You’ll wake Merlin!” Will does not look very bothered, but he shuts up. “And I do care. Just not right now.”

“Only ’cause you don’t know shit,” Will retorts.

“Enlighten me, then,” says Arthur.

He regrets it almost at once. Will’s tirade goes on for a good twenty minutes, until he has to go to the kitchen for a glass of water, and miraculous Merlin sleeps right through it.

While Will is out of the room, Arthur shakes him awake gently, and says, “Help! I don’t know what I did, but he won’t shut up!”

“Wha?” says Merlin. He blinks. “Oh, god, did you get Will talking politics?” He sits up. “You’d better go before he comes back.”

“Probably a good idea,” says Arthur. He can still feel where Merlin was sleeping on him, like a warm pressure-ghost. “I’ll just be leaving, then.”

“Yeah,” says Merlin.

“I’ll see you in a few days,” says Arthur.

“Yeah,” says Merlin. He’s all bleary-eyed and his hair’s sticking up from where it was pressed against Arthur’s shoulder, and he leans in slowly, hesitant, resting a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

They’re so close together that Arthur can feel Merlin’s breath mingling with his, and they hang there for a moment, and Arthur just has time to think, _oh god, **finally**_ , when Will comes back into the room and launches straight back into his rant.

Merlin jerks back, muttering apologies.

“Oh, you’re awake,” says Will. “Nice nap?”

“Yeah,” says Merlin. “Arthur’s a good pillow.”

“Well, that’s one thing he’s good for, then,” says Will.

“Oi!” says Arthur.

“Anyway, where was I?” says Will. “Oh, yeah –”

“Actually, Arthur was just leaving,” says Merlin, standing up and dragging Arthur to his feet. “He has to go, he has a nine o’clock lecture tomorrow.” He manhandles Arthur out of the room before Will has a chance to protest, and says, “Sorry about sleeping on you. I didn’t drool or anything, did I?”

“No,” says Arthur. “It was kind of sweet, actually.”

Merlin smiles, but only for a moment. “Time you were leaving, then,” he says, opening the door. “Bye now!”

As the door slams shut behind him, Arthur reflects that up until now, he’s mostly been able to convince himself that he’s just being paranoid and insecure, but he’s suddenly even more confused than he was before. He does not know what to make of any of this. He’s never had more mixed signals in his life (and that’s really saying something). He wonders if he has perhaps done something really awful to offend Merlin without realising it, and oh _god_ , is he not over the thing with his ears, or maybe Arthur’s accidentally been really homophobic at some point and hasn’t noticed, or, or…

Needless to say, Arthur does not get much sleep that night.

 

*

 

He gets through the next couple of days by just avoiding everyone he hasn’t already come out to and hiding in his flat all evening (if anyone asks, he says he has a really bad cold), his facebook wall rapidly filling up with questions from people Vivian’s told already.

He is Arthur fucking Pendragon and being gay is a really fucking big deal. It’s just like he’s been saying all this time. It takes him a full day and a half to actually work up the nerve to read any of the messages.

They are not quite what he expected. A fair amount of people just want to tell him that Vivian’s spreading rumours again. One or two are insults. The remainder is actually… pretty supportive. It doesn’t take away that much from the sting, but it’s still an incredible relief. By the time he’s done, he thinks he might actually go to rugby practice after all, if only because he hates to skip it.

Once he gets there, everything goes pretty well until Val and some of his friends notice he’s arrived and surround him, trapping him in the inconspicuous corner of the changing room he’s picked out. Fuck.

“Have you heard what that bitch Vivian’s saying about you?” says Val.

“Uh, yes?” says Arthur.

Val snorts. “It’s not true, is it?”

Arthur tries not to look as horrified as he feels. He should probably just be honest and all, but… “No,” he says. “No, of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. You know Vivian, always telling stories! No, I like girls. Girls are hot and all that.” He swallows. “Definitely straight, me.”

Val narrows his eyes, but then he says, “Alright, cool. Sorry about that!” and hurries away out the door onto the field.

Once he’s gone, Percy sidles over, and says, “You’re a terrible liar.”

“I know,” says Arthur. “I can’t believe he’s so gullible, that was just – wait, what?” He turns to look at Percy. He’s not sure if he’s more surprised that Val fell for his cunning ruse, or that Percy, of all people, saw through it in a heartbeat.

“So are you gay, then?” says Percy.

“Yeah,” says Arthur. “That okay?”

“Of course,” says Percy. “See you outside, yeah?”

 

*

Another weekend goes by. Arthur goes out with his usual crowd on Saturday night, and except for one or two snide comments, it’s actually mostly okay – Owain even keeps awkwardly trying to point out guys he thinks Arthur might like, despite assurances that it’s not necessary. On Sunday, Lance makes epic hangover breakfast sandwiches with all the breakfast food he can find in the fridge. Monday he has lectures, and by the time he goes to LGBT soc on Tuesday, he’s starting to feel normal again.

He sits around a table with his gay friends (like regular friends, but gay!) and drinks totally not-gay, manly beer, and watches Merlin drink his weird girly cocktail of the night.

“So I hear you’ve been outed?” Elena says after a while, and then adds by way of explanation, “Vivian told me you were gay then got offended when I wasn’t surprised.”

“What? Why would it offend her?” says Freya.

“She thought I thought she’d turned him gay or something,” says Elena. “Did she, by the way? Because she’s gorgeous and all, but I would _not_ put it past Vivian to put a man off girls for life.”

“I – well – what?” says Arthur.

“I’m joking,” says Elena. “Seriously, though, are you okay?”

“Well, about half my friends think it’s just Vivian trying to get me back for dumping her and to be honest I haven’t bothered to correct them,” says Arthur. “And it was touch and go for a bit but I’m fine now. Thanks.”

Freya wraps an arm around his shoulders and gives him a quick hug. “Poor baby,” she says. Arthur hugs back.

“Seriously, though, I was terrified about the guys on the rugby team,” says Arthur. “I mean, I _shower_ with them. Naked and everything. I wouldn’t blame them if they were a bit freaked out.”

Elena’s eyes go wide. “You play rugby?” she says. “That’s awesome! Why didn’t you tell me? What position?”

“You’re a rugby fan?” says Arthur, leaning over the table.

“Well, yes,” says Elena. “Runs in the family. Listen, next time there’s a match on, you have _got_ to come over, I haven’t had anyone to watch rugby with in _ages_.”

They’re still talking rugby half an hour or so later when Merlin and Gwaine get wind of their conversation and ruin it.

“I’ve always been more of a footie fan,” says Gwaine.

“Blasphemy,” says Elena. She tosses her head.

“I’ve never really got sports,” says Merlin. “I used to watch them with Will so I could eye up all the men in little shorts, though, that was fun.” He pauses, then says, “So do you wear little shorts when you play rugby?”

“Yeah,” says Arthur. “I get all dirty and sweaty too.” Merlin’s face becomes very serious as he contemplates this. “You’re welcome to come watch some time.” He waggles his eyebrows. Merlin almost chokes on his cocktail.

“Oh, you guys,” says Elena. “Just get married already.” She starts looking a little guilty when things suddenly seem a tad awkward.

“You know,” Freya says to Arthur, “I really didn’t need the image of you in tiny shorts. No offence.”

“Sorry?” says Arthur.

“Oh, come on, Freya, I’m sure Arthur looks perfectly fine in his little shorts,” says Elena.

“They’re not that little, you know,” says Arthur.

“Guys have weird legs,” says Freya. “They’re too hairy.”

“As they should be,” Morgause interjects. “It’s natural. Removing body hair is a sign of female bondage, you know.”

“Bondage?” says Merlin.

“Not that kind,” says Gwaine. Merlin is visibly disappointed.

“Oh god, are we going to start talking about bondage now?” says Freya. “If we’re going to start talking about bondage now I might move chairs.”

“Whatever happened to tolerance?” says Merlin.

“Went out the window the time you got drunk and told us all how you used to fantasize about Dr. Frank-N-Furter tying you up,” says Freya.

“Freya!” says Merlin, aghast. He flushes. Arthur is mostly confused.

“Who’s Dr. Frank-whatsit?” he says.

Merlin stares at him. “You haven’t seen _Rocky Horror_?” he says.

“…No?” says Arthur. “Is this a gay thing?”

“No,” says Merlin, at the same time Gwaine says,“Hell yeah!”

“Well, a bit,” says Merlin. Gwaine deems this a suitable compromise. “You have to watch it, okay? Come over some time and we’ll watch it!”

“I’m up for that!” says Gwaine. “You can never have too much _Rocky Horror_. Thursday good? I’ll bring Lager. Thursday is Lager Day.”

“Sounds great!” says Merlin. “Will has it on DVD, I’m sure he won’t mind.”

Arthur looks for one to the other, and wonders just what, exactly, he has got himself into. “Fine,” he says, with a sigh that’s only half put on. “Count me in.”

 

*

 

Thursday comes around quite abominably slowly. Arthur’s not seen much of Merlin since Merlin near-threw him out of his flat the week before, and he’s not sure he’s looking forward to it, necessarily.

Merlin is all smiles when he arrives. “Hi!” he says. “How’ve you been?”

“Same as usual, really,” says Arthur. He is ushered into the living room. “You?”

“Oh, you know,” says Merlin. “So Gwaine texted me, he can’t make it. I’m not sure why, he was really vague.” Merlin still has his phone in his hand. Arthur can only assume this was very short-notice.

“Just you and me, then,” says Arthur.

“I guess,” says Merlin. Then, suddenly cheerful, “I bought Skittles!”

Arthur laughs. “More rainbow food?”

“Everything is better with rainbows,” says Merlin. He fetches the bag from the sofa and tosses it to Arthur, then puts the DVD on. “Sit down, okay? You’re going to love this.”

“Not sure it’s my kind of thing,” says Arthur.

“It’s everyone’s kind of thing,” says Merlin. “Except boring people. And you’re not boring! We already established that, remember?”

“I guess,” says Arthur. He tears open the Skittles and they scatter across the sofa and the floor. Merlin snickers. “Shut up, you.” Arthur aims a Skittle at Merlin’s head. Merlin throws one back, and Arthur manages to catch it in his mouth, then looks very smug about it. Merlin scrambles up onto the sofa and takes a handful straight out of the bag.

“My co-ordination is legendary,” says Arthur.

“Oh, really?” says Merlin. He tosses another Skittle at Arthur. It hits him on the nose.

“Oi! I wasn’t expecting that one!”

“You just can’t admit that you fail,” says Merlin. “At Skittles! Not just generally.”

“Thanks,” says Arthur.

Merlin laughs, and strips off his hoodie. Underneath he’s wearing the rainbow shirt. Arthur stares.

“So what’s your excuse this time?” he says.

“Excuse me?” says Merlin. Arthur points at his shirt. Merlin flushes. “Oh! I, um, forgot I was wearing this. Uh. Would you believe laundry day?”

“Probably not,” says Arthur. “Come on, admit it. You love that shirt, don’t you?”

“It’s certainly grown on me,” says Merlin. He bites his lip, so awkward that Arthur is certain he’s missing out something important.

“How come?” he says. He pokes Merlin in the ribs when he doesn’t answer right away. “C’mon, spill!”

“You really want to know?” says Merlin. Arthur nods. “It’s just – well, you said you liked it.” Arthur stares. Then bursts out laughing. “It’s not funny!” Merlin says. “I mean, I know it’s silly, but –”

“No,” says Arthur. “I’m flattered. I really am, that’s – that’s kind of lovely.”

Merlin laughs, his eyes crinkling up at the corners, and Arthur finds himself happier than he’s been in weeks. Months, maybe. He takes Merlin’s hand, their fingers lacing together, and gives it a squeeze, then, suddenly confident, cups his cheek with one hand and leans in to kiss him.

Merlin leaps up off the sofa almost at once. “Right!” he says. “Rocky Horror time! I’ll put the DVD on, shall I?”

Arthur’s stomach sinks to somewhere around his feet, and he is so, so tempted to just go with it, to watch the stupid film and avoid touching Merlin all night, but _no_. This is getting ridiculous. He stands up. “Alright,” he says. “What is your _problem_?”

“Sorry?” says Merlin.

“I know you like me,” says Arthur. “Or I think I do, anyway, everyone keeps telling me you do, and you said you wanted to kiss me, so – why do you keep pushing me away? Am I doing something really wrong, is that it? ’Cause I’m sorry but I’m still figuring this whole thing out.” He breaks off. Merlin doesn’t answer. “Do you just want to be friends, is that it?”

“No!” says Merlin. “Well, yes, but – I _do_ like you. I really, _really_ like you. It’s just a little complicated.”

“What’s complicated about it?” says Arthur.

“Look,” says Merlin. “I’m, what, the first gay man you ever met?”

“No you’re not,” says Arthur. “I’ve met loads of other gay men! Well, a few, anyway.”

“First gay man you met after coming out,” Merlin corrects himself. Arthur finds it hard to argue with that. “And then suddenly you’re head over heels for me? You said it yourself, you’re still figuring stuff out, you can’t just –”

“I can too!” says Arthur. “It’s not like that! I like you because you’re _you_ , not because – well, you know!”

“I just don’t think this is a good idea right now,” says Merlin. “We haven’t even known each other that long, I don’t think we should be rushing into anything, and I _really_ don’t think you’re ready for a relationship –”

“Who said anything about a relationship?” says Arthur. “I just want to make out! Everyone’s talking about how I’m gay and giving me balloons and I’ve never even kissed another man! I feel like a total fraud half the time, Merlin, and I just want –”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course you’re not a fraud,” says Merlin. “You don’t need to prove anything. And it’s not just that, I’m – I’m just not in a dating sort of place right now, okay?”

“Why not?” says Arthur. “We’d be great. You _know_ we would.”

Merlin bites his lip. “I don’t know,” he says. “I – the last few guys I’ve dated – it’s like I only attract nutcases and total wankers or something, I don’t know. I mean, Cenred – and Gilli was nice enough, but he – and don’t even get me _started_ on Edwin –”

“So, what, you’re saying because I’m attracted to you there must be something wrong with me?” says Arthur.

“No, I’m saying there’s something wrong with _me_ ,” says Merlin. “And, I don’t know, I want to, I _do_ , but it just seems like such a terrible idea, and –”

“Don’t be stupid, there’s nothing wrong with you,” Arthur says, appalled. “Merlin – you’re _wonderful_. Everyone thinks so. And you baked me a cake with rainbows in it and you made me soup and I already don’t know what I’d do without you in my life, and how could I _not_ fall for you after that?” Merlin doesn’t say anything. “Listen, I’m good, alright? I’m a bit hazy on the details still but I know what I want. I want _you_.” Merlin doesn’t say anything for a really long time. “Oh god, please say somethi–”

Merlin launches himself forward, throws his arms around Arthur’s neck, and kisses him, soft and gentle and frantic all at once, and Arthur is too shocked to move for maybe half a second. Then he wraps his arms around Merlin and kisses back.

Arthur is a damn good kisser, and if he had any doubt that his girl-kissing skills would translate to boy-kissing, they are thoroughly removed when Merlin moans and tangles his fingers in Arthur’s hair, and just _melts_ into it, tongue dipping into Arthur’s mouth, and it all feels fucking _incredible_ , velvety-soft and so, so hot, that it takes Arthur another few seconds to think _holy shit, I’m kissing a **man**_ , and be more turned on than he has ever been in his _life_.

He pulls back briefly, and kisses Merlin again, and again, brief, fleeting kisses, as if he’s trying to relive the first one, until Merlin smiles and takes hold of the back of his neck, pulls him in and kisses him deeply. Everything slows down then, all the tension seeps out of it, and it seems to go on forever. Merlin’s mouth tastes so sweet, like Skittles, and the skin on his face is rough and stubbly where it brushes against Arthur’s, and it’s not so different from every other kiss Arthur’s had, only so, so much better.

They finally break apart, slowly, reluctantly, a few millimetres at a time, and stand there in the middle of Merlin’s living room, tangled and flushed, and Arthur’s brain is basically pudding by this point, so he says,

“You taste like _rainbows_ ,” marvelling.

Merlin buries his face in Arthur’s hair and laughs and laughs.

“Did I say that outloud?” says Arthur. _Shit_.

“Just a bit, yeah,” says Merlin. “You’re adorable.”

“M’not,” says Arthur, as Merlin’s lips press against his neck. “I’m manly and butch. You just wait!”

“You can be adorable _and_ manly and butch, you know,” says Merlin.

Arthur laughs and runs his fingers through Merlin’s hair, then totally doesn’t nuzzle at his neck.

When his lips press against Merlin’s ear, Merlin hisses and clutches at his back, so Arthur investigates further, kissing harder, taking Merlin’s ear lobe between his lips and sucking gently, and Merlin moans and goes limp in his arms, sagging into his grip.

“Oh, god,” he says. “Do that again.” Arthur does it again. Merlin squirms.

“Huh,” Arthur says.

“My ears are very sensitive,” says Merlin, voice dreamy. He pulls his face away from Arthur’s neck and kisses him on the lips again. “Don’t play with them in public, yeah? It gets embarrassing.”

“Duly noted,” says Arthur, kissing him again, a little longer this time, then running his lips along the sharp line of Merlin’s cheekbone. “I just. You’re so – _god_.”

“Uh-huh,” says Merlin.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” says Arthur.

“Just improvise,” says Merlin. He takes Arthur’s face in his hands and kisses him, hard, hands sliding up under his shirt and rubbing up and down his back, and Arthur lets out a keening whine that definitely is not a whimper, and after that he loses track of time a bit.

When Will arrives back from wherever he’d gone to get away from the campy musical shenanigans in his flat, they are all tangled up on the sofa, Arthur pinning Merlin down into the soft, faded cushions, still just kissing, so caught up in it that they didn’t even notice Will was there until he said,

“Oh, come you, you guys, get a room! I want to watch the footie!”

Arthur mumbles ‘sorry’ around Merlin’s lips. Merlin just groans. A moment later, once Will’s already sighed in exasperation and gone to the kitchen, Merlin pulls back, eyes wide, and calls out,

“Will? God, I’m sorry, I guess we got carried away –”

“I’m just glad you were still fully clothed!” Will calls back.

Arthur looks at Merlin. Merlin looks at Arthur.

“So,” says Merlin.

“So,” says Arthur. “Um. Merlin, would you like to go out with me some time?” He had a feeling he was doing this sort of back to front, but what the hell.

Merlin’s face breaks out into a smile. “Yeah,” he says. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

“Tomorrow good?” says Arthur.

“Tomorrow’s great,” says Merlin.

“I’ll buy you dinner,” says Arthur. He kisses the end of Merlin’s nose. Merlin laughs and pushes him away.

“We never got round to the film,” he says.

“Guess not,” says Arthur, with a little shrug. “I don’t care.”

“Me neither,” says Merlin. He wraps an arm around Arthur’s neck and hugs him tight. “Sorry if I was being stupid about this, I just –”

“It’s okay, I was being stupid too,” says Arthur. “We’re stupid together.” Merlin laughs a slightly shaky laugh.

“You should probably go,” he says. “Not that I don’t want you to stay, I do, I just – we’re not quite there yet, y’know?”

“Yeah,” says Arthur. He’s not arguing with that. There are all sorts of things he wants to do to Merlin, but hell if he knows how to go about any of it. He disentangles himself from Merlin and gets up, doing his best to smooth down his hair. “See you tomorrow, then?”

“Hell yes,” says Merlin.

They kiss good-night at the door, and it ends up going on a little longer than anticipated, and Merlin stands and watches him until he’s all the way down the stairs and out of sight.

Arthur is practically skipping down the road outside. He texts Merlin before he’s even ‘round the corner.

_Missing you already x_


End file.
